Save us, Homer

Last night, I dozed off around the bottom of the eighth inning and woke up with a runner on second and one out in the bottom of the ninth with So Taguchi at the plate. I had a bad feeling about it and closed my eyes again, hoping that I would go back to sleep before the bad ending. But I couldn't, and the Reds lost again.

Then, I was wide awake from the frustration and disappointment. How many runners had the Reds left on? Thirteen? (I could look it up, but nah, I know it was a lot.) So as I lay awake thinking about the loss and the losing, I started to write a blog post in my head. I thought to myself, "I should really write this down. Nah, I'll remember what it was about in the morning."

Well, here it is, morning, and do I have the foggiest notion of what the post was about? No. As I sit here craving a latte from the coffee shop across the street but not wanting to pay three point five bucks for something that costs them ten cents to make, I am racking my brain trying to recall what inspired me so in the waning hours of yesterday. Alas, 'tis something to go down into the forgotten annuls of time.

All I know is that Friday is the most excited I've been about a Reds game in weeks. I'm even developing a drink called "The Homer" made with Bailey's Irish Cream, strawberry (or cherry - haven't decided) ice cream, and a couple of other ingredients. I'll post the recipe when I am satisfied that "The Homer" represents the young prospective phenom it is supposed to.
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